


Lunch at the Pegasus Cafe

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic 2018 [41]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Diners, Established Relationship, Friendship, Love Triangles, M/M, Prompt Fill, Radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment fic for Alternate Universe prompt:Stargate Atlantis, ensemble, diner AUIn which life in the small Alaskan town of Lantea is pretty good for Jon, with one glaring exception.





	Lunch at the Pegasus Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> TV Fusion: Northern Exposure

_…and that’s why I got thrown out of the hotel in Lima. Oh, hey, look at the time! If you’re hungry, head on over to the café. Evan’s trying out something new, elk meat tacos, and you know they’ll be delicious. Lunchtime also means it’s Opera Hour here at K-LAN, because we all want to keep our local old soul happy while he works. Make sure to tip your waiter! Jon, this one’s for you._

Jon grinned as _Cosa Mi Narri_ started to play over the radio. _The Marriage of Figaro_ wasn’t one of his favorites, but it was always interesting to see what Blair would pick to play on the lunch hour.

“What can I get you, Sheriff?” Jon asked.

Sheriff Qinnauyauk – Sheriff Q to most of the people in and around Lantea – was sitting in his usual spot at the counter. He was a solid, heavyset man with broad features and dark hair that he kept in a 1950’s-esque flattop. 

He contemplated the menu, which was written on a chalkboard behind the counter. “Those tacos any good?”

“Evan made the corn tortillas by hand,” Jon said. 

“Well, I’ll just give them a whirl. And a beer, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

More people were coming through the door as Jon put the order on the wheel and spun it into the kitchen. In a town as small as Lantea there weren’t many options for dining out, so Pegasus Café did a nice, steady business. It didn’t hurt that they offered better pastries than anyone could get in the Lower 48. 

Sheppard and Caldwell came in together and took a table by the window. Caldwell didn’t come to the café often, so Jon figured he had business with Sheppard. He also wasn’t a fan of Opera Hour – had, in fact, forbidden Blair to play it, but had to back down after public outcry – and scowled when an aria from _The Magic Flute_ came on.

“Sheppard. Mr. Caldwell. What can I get you guys?”

“Hey, Jon. I’ll take the special. And a Coke. Gotta fly later.”

Sheppard was a pilot, had his own business making deliveries and transporting visitors between Lantea, nearby bush settlements, and Anchorage. It was a little more expensive than taking the bus, but it was a whole lot faster.

“I want a burger,” Caldwell said. “Charred on the outside, pink in the middle. And none of that goat cheese. Plain American.”

Jon made a note and managed not to roll his eyes. He took that order to the kitchen directly. 

“Whatcha got?” JB asked. He had a bandana tied around his forehead and his apron was already spattered with grease. He worked the grill and was incredibly efficient for a guy with only one arm. (Evan jokingly called JB his right-hand man.)

“Caldwell’s here.” Jon relayed the order.

Evan snorted but didn’t turn around. He was putting together the tacos, all the fillings neatly arranged in bowls on the counter. Jon had worked his fair share of diners and greasy spoons as he made his way to Alaska, but he’d never seen one as orderly and controlled as Evan’s.

“He liked the cheese until someone told him where it came from,” JB muttered. He pulled a fresh patty out of the cooler and slapped it on the grill.

“Can’t please everyone,” Evan replied. 

It was almost impossible to get that guy riled up. Evan was very chill. And somehow managed to look sexy in those baggy chef pants he wore. Then again, Jon was intimately acquainted with the body underneath those unflattering pants.

Evan turned and handed a plate of tacos to Jon, giving him a quick kiss as he did so. “These are for Q. Extra meat, even though he didn’t ask.”

Jon waded back in, ready to take more orders. Most people were game to try the tacos, and they’d probably sell out of those before too long. Jon knew everyone by name, knew how they took their coffee and which ones wanted ketchup or steak sauce on their meat. That’s why they’d fought to get Opera Hour reinstated. 

When things started to slow down Evan came out and gave Jon a brown paper bag. “Take this over to Blair. I’ll cover.”

Jon was more than happy to step out and get some fresh air. K-LAN wasn’t far, just across the street and down a ways. Caldwell owned the radio station and the newspaper and was reportedly looking into starting his own TV station too, though there wasn’t much call for it.

Blair’s booth had a full view of Main Street, and he waved at Jon as soon as he saw him. Blair and Jon were of an age, at least from outward appearances, though Jon was pretty clean-cut and Blair had long, curly hair and an earring in one ear. Story was, he’d been traveling around after college, met with a local Inuit shaman, and decided to put down roots in Lantea. Jon always had the sense he was waiting for something to happen.

“Hey, man,” Blair said after he’d put another song on. He pulled his headphones down around his neck. “You have no idea how much I want that.”

Jon handed him the bag, which had the last of the tacos in it. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. Aiden brought me some R&B stuff to play later. Caldwell really needs to invest in some new tunes for this place.”

The shelves in the booth were full of old vinyl records, though the station had switched over to tapes at some point. Still pretty far beyond what was happening in most places.

“Listen, Jon. Ronon’s in town.”

Jon leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Ronon. That guy was like a bad penny, always turning up when Jon least expected it. On the one hand it was good news, because it meant fresh meat for the café. On the other hand…

“Can I crash at your place for a couple days?”

Blair nodded emphatically. “Of course. Any time, you know that.”

Jon had a standing invite whenever Ronon decided to come out of the bush. “Thanks.”

“You ever gonna talk to Evan about how you feel?”

“What can I say? I knew what I was getting into.”

“Communication, man. That’s the key to any relationship.”

“Your song’s almost over,” Jon pointed out. 

“Whoa. Thanks.” Blair pulled the headphones over his ears and Jon headed back to the café. 

The lunch crowd had thinned considerably. The Sheriff was still there, working his way through some of Evan’s cream puffs, and JB was leaning in the kitchen doorway drinking a beer. 

“Out back,” JB said to Jon’s unasked question.

Jon went through the kitchen and out the back door to the little porch. Ronon was pulling animal carcasses off the back of his battered old pickup truck, looking every inch the mountain man from his long dreadlocks to the furry coat that used to be an animal. He acknowledged Jon with a nod and a grunt.

“He’s just in for a couple days,” Evan said, pulling Jon aside. He sounded apologetic, but he couldn’t stop shooting glances at Ronon, his emotions written clearly on his face.

“I’ll pop upstairs after shift and pick up some things.”

“You’ll be at Blair’s?”

“Yeah.”

Evan hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry.”

He was always sorry, and Jon believed he honestly felt bad. But Jon also knew that Ronon was the reason Evan was in Lantea instead of Los Angeles or Chicago or New York, where he could be running his own fancy restaurant and making big bucks. Jon had resigned himself to being second choice – close second – but it didn’t soothe the sting of knowing Ronon would be in their bed tonight.

“I’ll start prep for dinner,” Jon said. 

“Okay. I’ll be in soon.”

The dead animals would be put in the meat locker in the basement, where JB and Evan would cut them up into steaks and chops and roasts. Ronon never charged and got all his meals for free whenever he was in town.

Jon went back in the kitchen. He washed the last of the lunch dishes and started chopping vegetables.

“You okay, kid?” JB asked.

“As close as I’m gonna get today,” Jon replied.


End file.
